Walt Disney College
by euphorella
Summary: Our heroes and heroines are in college - there's no such thing as fairy tales. But they can learn a thing or two, whether it's about having a dream, seeing a whole new world, or blooming in adversity. / Focuses on Renaissance characters; original pairings. Adult themes.
1. Chapter 1

**Here's another one of those Disney AU fanfics, but this one involves our hero/heroines in college. It's a cliché concept, but it's adorable, so why not? :)**

 **I haven't developed the entire plotline, so suggestions are more than welcome!**

 **DISCLAIMER: Disney is owned by—surprise!—Disney.**

. . . . . .

"Belle!" the man behind the desk greeted the young woman who entered the university library. She had hazel eyes and brown hair, tied into a low ponytail.

"Good morning!" Belle said cheerfully. "I've come to return the book I borrowed."

"Finished already?"

Belle gave him the book, called _The Color Purple_. "I couldn't put it down. Have you got anything new?"

"Not since yesterday," the librarian said with a laugh.

"Hm, that's all right. I'll borrow…" Belle painstakingly lifted a book off a high shelf and headed to the librarian's desk.

"This one."

"That one? But you've read it twice!"

"It's my favorite," Belle mused. "I couldn't find the entire thing online and I can't find it in the bookshop either, so I have to borrow it every now and then."

"Well, if you like it all that much, it's yours."

Belle looked at him in shock. "But, sir…"

"I insist," he said, holding up his palm. Belle grinned.

"Oh… well, thank you. Thank you very much!"

"No big deal, Belle."

With another smile, Belle headed to the quietest part of the library to sit at one of the empty spaces. She had been reading for quite some time until she realized that someone had sat right in front of her. She relaxed as she recognized the face of her best friend.

"Hey, Mu."

"I thought you'd never notice me," Mulan said. "What're you reading?"

Belle sheepishly lifted the book for her to see.

"That _again_?"

"The librarian gave it to me already," Belle said. "It's awesome, Mu. You should give it a try."

Mulan looked at the cover. _Brothers Grimm: The Complete Collection._

"Oh come on, Belle. I've read those. Not all of them, of course, but they're pretty brutal."

Belle raised an eyebrow. "Well, you're pretty brutal yourself."

The young Asian woman only laughed. "Guess you're right. Don't you have classes?"

"Nope."

"Lucky you," Mulan groaned. "I have to go back to school for history."

"I'll walk you, if that helps."

"Thanks." Mulan grinned in gratitude. "Anyway, I have to finish two chapters _and_ write a paper."

She laid down a thick, hardbound textbook called _World History, Vol. IV._

"I like history. It's not that bad," Belle shrugged.

"It _is_ pretty interesting, but with that snotty Chi Fu as my Asian history teacher… ach." Mulan shook her head.

Belle laughed. "I hear you."

The two friends passed their time silently, Belle rereading her favorite tales and Mulan typing furiously on her laptop as she goes through the thick textbook.

. . . . . .

"God _damn_ it," Esmeralda hissed as she stormed out of the classroom. She had gotten another F in her theology paper. _This is bad_ , she thought. She should be graduating in a few months, but getting constant F's is no help at all.

"Esme!"

She turned around to see her best friend, Phoebus, catching up to her. She realized she left him inside the classroom.

"Sorry, Phoebs. I was a bit distracted."

"It's fine," Phoebus said. "You all right?"

She sighed. "Yeah, I guess so. Just pressured, that's all."

"Well, it's just _one_ subject."

"It counts, Phoebs."

Phoebus shrugged. "Can I read it?"

"Sure," Esmeralda said, handing it to him. They stopped walking for a while as Phoebus scanned her essay. It was about the "outsiders" and their role in society, and how such role affected their views about God. Her introduction consisted of a little story:

 _In the 1800s, a gypsy woman walked silently in the aisles of the Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris, gazing in awe at the marvelous monuments of the Christian figures. The young woman knew nothing of the religion, but as she was already in the cathedral, she realized she wanted to utter a small prayer, despite her character._

" _I don't know if You can hear me, or if You're even there—or if You would listen to a humble prayer, from a gypsy like me."_

 _Why is someone like_ her _talking to what they said to be an omnipotent being?_

" _Yes, I know I'm just an outcast," she admitted. "I shouldn't speak to You_ _…_ _"_

 _But the longer she stared at the kind faces of the figures in church, the more her heart was filled, all at the same time, with sadness and hope. There was something in the Christ's face, though it was made of stone, that gave the girl some kind of determination._

" _Still, I see Your face_ _and wonder_ _…_ _were You once an outcast too?"_

It then proceeded to a lengthy discussion about the study itself.

"Esme," he said, dazed, "this—this is beautifully written."

She raised her eyebrows and clicked her tongue.

"No, I mean it. I'm not gonna ask you to buy me a frappe or something. I really, really mean it."

"Thanks," she smiled as he gave her back the paper. "Frollo doesn't seem to think so."

"We all know the douche does not like anybody. Except himself."

"Yeah, but he seems to hate _me_ more than anybody…" she frowned. "Maybe I should go see him sometime to ask why he never liked my work."

"Hm. Maybe."

"I mean, I write something straightforward and he gives me and F. So I write something creative… and he still gives me an F."

"Don't worry, Esme. You know him. Maybe you've written something he disagrees with."

"I guess," Esmeralda mumbled.

The pair entered the cafeteria and was greeted by a group of people, who were already seated in a table. Jasmine, Megara and John Smith have saved them two seats.

"Thanks for the initiative, guys," Esmeralda said, sitting beside Megara.

"We'd be accepting your gratitude," John said, "but Phoebus only texted us ahead."

Esmeralda rolled her eyes playfully. What's new?

"By the way, Jas, how was that guy Ariel set you up with?" Esmeralda asked.

Jasmine, who was the only sophomore in the group, made a face. "I wouldn't even have come, but Ariel told me to give him a chance, get to know him. So I went and I got to know him, all right. 'Cause he didn't stop talking about himself."

They laughed.

"But it was funny. It turned out Ariel didn't like him either."

"What was his name?"

"Gaston."

Megara's eyes went wide.

"You know him?" John asked, noticing her reaction.

"Is that the huge guy? Black-haired and self-absorbed?"

Jasmine grinned. "Yep."

"Then yeah, I know him. We had a… _thing_ … once."

" _Thing?"_ John smiled knowingly.

"No sex," Meg snapped. "I've got standards despite my bitchiness."

"Oh."

"Just kind of a real short fling. He's a terrible guy. Sexist and conceited."

"That's a great way to describe him," Jasmine agreed. "At some point, he said—and I quote—'I don't know why girls like you are in college. What's the point? You're just gonna stay at home and take care of kids.'"

Esmeralda gasped. "Oh, hell _no_!"

"Of all the people he could have said that to…" Phoebus laughed. "He chose Jasmine."

"Right?" Jasmine smirked. "But that _is_ really sexist. I was pissed beyond belief."

"So what did you do to him?" Megara asked, stuffing her mouth with potato chips.

"I gave him a really, really dirty look."

Her friends snickered.

"Reminded me of that Asian history teacher," Esmeralda said. "I had him last year."

"The one Mulan always rants about?" Meg asked.

"Yup. He _was_ pretty sexist."

"True," Meg said, "but he's a professor, at least. That guy somehow has _intellect_."

. . . . . .

Belle was at the school library again, reading another book ( _The Sun Also Rises_ by Ernest Hemingway). Her friend Lumiere had given it to her as a gift on her birthday last month. Belle hadn't had the time to read it, due to all the schoolwork and increasing pile of books on her desk. Today, she figured, would be the best time to start, since it was a Friday and she had enough time to finish it over the weekend. The Grimm Brothers book was for light reading, since they consisted of short stories, so she decided she would read that when schoolwork was too heavy.

Belle checked her phone for the time. 6:07 p.m. She had been waiting for Mulan for almost two hours now; not that she minded. She was more than happy to indulge a novel.

She also received a text from Mulan:

 **Mulan:** _on my way there. dinner?_

 **Belle:** _Totally. Duke's?_

 **Mulan:** _duke's sounds fantastic. i'll treat you :-)_

 **Belle:** _You really don't have to!_

 **Mulan:** _i will anyway._

Belle shook her head at her friend's stubbornness. But in many ways, stubbornness made Mulan, and most of the time it did everyone good. She was stubborn, but for the right reasons.

No more than a minute later, Mulan's figure appeared in the library glass door entrance. Belle stood up, stuffed the book in her purse, and said goodbye to the librarian.

Belle and Mulan walked out of the library building and onto the grassy school grounds.

"So how was Chin Poo?"

"His name is Chi Fu, but thanks for calling him Poo. Might call him Shit Poo from now on, too."

"Mu, I said Chin, not Shit. And I genuinely thought his name was Chin Poo."

"Well, Shit suits him better. And I genuinely think he's full of it."

Belle laughed.

"What'd he do this time?"

"I mean, you know I always had patience for the guy. I try to ignore him and keep my mouth shut, 'cause you know, he's still a professor and he still deserves respect."

"That's true."

" _But_ awhile ago, we were discussing women in the Song dynasty, and I swear, I'm the only girl in class he knows _and_ picks on. 'Ms. Fa, for example,' he said, 'is a pity. She's got duties at home, but she's lucky enough that her father sent her to school. If it were up to _me_ , though, she'd better be learning off in the kitchen.'"

"Oh my God," Belle said in surprise. "That's a horrible thing to say."

"I don't even know why he won't drop it," Mulan sighed. "This is the 21st century, everyone's for gender equality—and rightfully so. I get it, he grew up in a patriarchal society, but that's no excuse. He ought to be more open-minded."

"It's still kind of you to try to understand him."

"Well, I _do_ need a good grade."

Belle chuckled. "How'd the other students react?"

"I didn't laugh. They didn't laugh. No one found it funny."

"And good riddance."

"Uh-huh."

They walked out of the school gates and out in the streets. Duke's Café was a short walk from campus, and students usually hung out there during weekdays. Fridays, however, meant the café was empty. Most students opted to go to bars or clubs. Belle herself didn't bother—clubs were not her thing—while Mulan would sometimes go, usually with a large group of friends.

Belle was a scholar in school, and that wasn't surprising. She majors in literature and minors in journalism. She was already in her third year, and though as if only one degree was difficult enough, she managed everything perfectly. She wasn't a 'people person' due to that, but she was happy to have only a small group of friends. Mulan, of course, was one of them.

Mulan, on the otherhand, was no scholar. She was a junior, too, a regular student majoring in political science. Why she chose that degree was also a question to her, but she enjoyed it anyway. Her parents would have wanted her to get engineering or anything related to medicine but they know Mulan was almost hopeless when it comes to mathematics and science.

They finally reached Duke's and picked a seat by the glass window. Briefly they discussed what to eat and Belle half-raised her hand to call a waiter's attention, without looking up from the menu.

"Hey, y'all," said the waitress as she approached them.

"Oh, hi Tia!" Belle smiled at the chocolate-skinned woman. "I didn't know you worked the night shift."

"My coworker didn't show up so I had to fill in for her. Hopefully I get a day off tomorrow to catch up for school. I'm s'posed to be writing my dissertation."

Tiana was a senior taking up a degree in business administration and a scholar like Belle. They met a year ago when Tiana was part of the Student Government program. (She eventually had to let go of that, due to hectic schedules.) Belle needed to write an article about the Student Gov for the school paper and she had sat down with Tiana for a short interview. Afterwards, they went to the cafeteria for some banana bread and coffee, and that was when Tiana met Mulan.

"Well, don't you wanna sit down for a while or something?" Mulan offered. "I'm sure you could use a break."

Tiana smiled gratefully. "Oh, I sure could," she said, her voice thick in Southern accent. "Unfortunately, I'm a li'l bit busy now, but I'll make sure to find time this week to sit down with you guys."

"Of course," Belle said.

It was admirable how Tiana was taking up the degree—which is quite challenging in itself—while managing to be a scholar _and_ , on top of it all, find time to work a part-time job in a café. ("God knows I needed the money," she had said.)

"Thanks, y'all. I'll try to set my schedule. What'cha having?"

"Uh, one big bowl of mac n' cheese, one order of Caesar salad, and two roast beef sandwiches," Belle said in between pauses. "And two cans of Coke."

"S'that all?"

"Yup. We'll get dessert later, of course."

"Mac n' cheese, Caesar salad, two roast beef sandwiches and two cans of Coke?"

"Yup!"

"Right. Comin' up!"

A few minutes later dinner was served, and Mulan thought it was a nice break from all the hustle and bustle of the bar. The place was quiet, filled only with little murmurs and laughter, and the food was delicious. Belle and Mulan talked about trivial things—school, professors, friends—and it was a nice break from everything.

When they finished the main course, they ordered two slices of cheesecake. They were surprised when Tiana gave them both a cup of coffee.

"We didn't order coffee," Belle said.

"I know," she winked at them before heading off. Belle and Mulan grinned at each other.

"Tia, you're an angel!" Mulan cried.

Tiana gave them her signature salute before entering the kitchen. Mulan sighed, taking a bite of the cheesecake.

"Tia's amazing."

"Yup, and I heard that she's a candidate of being a valedictorian," Belle said. "I just couldn't mention it to her 'cause it's only hearsay."

"Wow," Mulan said. "But I don't doubt it, and I'm not _that_ surprised. I mean, the woman can do _anything_."

Mulan paid for the food, as she promised, and left a $5 bill on the table for Tiana. They waved goodbye before heading out.

"By the way," Mulan said once they were meters away from the café, "someone was totally checking you out awhile ago."

"Great."

"I'm serious, Belle. Long black hair in a ponytail, red shirt, looks like an alpha. But based on my intuition as a woman, a douchebag."

"Come on, Mu, that's pretty quick."

Mulan only shrugged. "I don't think he's your type anyway. I don't even _know_ what's your type."

"Honestly, me neither," Belle laughed.

Minutes later, Mulan let out a sharp "Oh, crap!"

"Why?"

"I'm supposed to be planning our sem project with my groupmates online," Mulan rubbed her temples. "Wow, I thought I can _finally_ get a good night's sleep after such a pleasant dinner."

They bounded up the stairs together.

"That's okay, Mu. Just reserve plenty of time for yourself tomorrow."

"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind. Thanks, B!" She gave her friend a quick hug, and they headed to their respective rooms in opposite halls.

. . . . . .

 **A/N: I didn't give them last names. So only those who already have last names (John Smith, Mulan, etc.)** _ **will**_ **be given last names. I can't quite figure out what to call them!**

 **These aren't all the characters. I decided to put others in the next chapter; otherwise this chapter will be too long. This is actually really long already, so apologies if you're bothered by that.**

 **Also, I try to keep their characters a bit modernized. Apologies again if you'd rather stick to all-traditional. What I'm doing is twisting the characterizations, combining them with their traditional portrayal** _ **and**_ **adding my own spice (that is, modernizing).**

 **Comments are appreciated! Thanks for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to those who read and reviewed, and to those who added this story to their follows/favs! *cookies* :)**

 **Bununnu: I don't know—I want to focus on the Renaissance characters. Perhaps as a side-plot, or something. Sorry! Do suggest how I'd put them here, though.**

. . . . . .

It was 11:28 p.m. on the clock, but Mulan was on her bed and her roommate Megara was sprawled on the floor, amidst a messy pile of papers, empty Budweiser bottles and a half-finished pizza box.

"Screw this," Meg groaned. "I'd rather be at the pub or something."

"Same, but everything's shitty right now and I really can't risk failing."

Mulan took another slice of pizza from the box and smothered it in hot sauce. A string of curses left her mouth as grease hit the corner of her MacBook.

"What are you doing, anyway?" Megara asked. "I thought you dropped your classes on Saturdays."

"We're doing our semester research," Mulan replied, wiping her MacBook with a napkin. "Only two of us are working right now and the other three are fucking _asleep_! Can you believe that? And they'll get credit for 'hard work,' shitheads."

If there was one thing anyone had to know about Mulan, it was the fact that she can't stop cursing after two bottles of beer.

Meg snickered. "I get you, although sometimes I'm one of those 'shitheads.' But only, like, 20% of the time."

Meg is in her third year of college, majoring in interdisciplinary studies. Almost three exact years ago Meg had graduated high school with decent grades, and she had opted not to be in college. Her parents, however, convinced her to, blabbering about more opportunities and learning experiences.

As much as Meg hated school, she knew she didn't regret going to college. She had learned to be more disciplined, determined and diligent. The student she used to be in high school is long gone. Now and then Meg would slack off, but she would always get back on track.

Plus, she had an excuse to give to men when they asked her out. "Sorry, school makes me really busy," she would say.

"You know who are absolute fucking wankers?"

Meg giggled. "God, Mulan, you're almost drunk."

"I needed the booze." Mulan was generally a non-rebellious student, but lately with all the fuss in school and family, she had succumbed to getting drunk. Not too often, but lots of times.

"Fine. Who are the wankers?"

"Groupmates who bail on you. They decided to give me the _hardest_ part of the project and they expect me to finish it by lunchtime tomorrow. What is this, _fucking_ high school?!"

"Poor baby Mu-mu," Meg tsk-tsked.

Mulan rattled on, talking to her groupmates in the air. "Brothers and sisters, I'm trying to be the child my parents want me to be. Is that so hard to empathize with?"

Mulan snapped her laptop shut.

"Calm down, sweets. You might destroy your poor, innocent laptop. That thing's expensive."

"I hate everything. But oh, what the hell—sorry, Meg. I'm a terrible friend. Here you are doing your job as a student, and I flip out on nights like this. To be fair, I'm stressed out, too, but I _should_ be more considerate."

Meg shook her head. "Hun, I'd never trade your companionship for anything else, whether you're sober or drunk."

"That's so sweet."

"Yup, and you're a bit of a mess tonight. Maybe it's time to go to sleep."

"I'm not even drunk yet. Just tipsy."

"Whatever you are, you won't remember all this. When you wake up tomorrow morning you'll be a sensible young woman again who only curses on rare occasions."

Mulan got up and went to the bathroom. "Yeah, I guess I'll do that. Thanks, Nutmeg."

After brushing her teeth and drinking water, Mulan went back to her bed to sleep.

"Do you want me to help you there?"

"I would," Meg said, "but not when you're drunk like this. Probably when you're sober. But you're not, so go to sleep."

"I think you should go to sleep, too. Just saying."

A few minutes later, Mulan was snoring. _That_ was another great thing about college: the friends.

Meg felt a heavy drowsiness fall over her like a wave, and minutes later she found herself giving in to Mulan's advice. She left the mess of papers and food on the floor, promising that she'd clean it up tomorrow morning.

. . . . . .

"I can't believe you went to the bar without me," Flynn Rider whined. "How many chicks did you pick up?"

"None," his friend Aladdin snapped. "I thought I made it clear that I'm only interested in one girl."

Flynn made a face. "Bro, come on! The college girl?"

"She's _beautiful_ , Rider, and she's the one."

"Damn. Since when did you turn into a romantic buff?"

"Since I met her."

"Saw her, you mean," Flynn opened the freezer and forked at his leftover Kraft dinner. "You didn't meet her, for starters. You only saw her walking in the mall. It doesn't count."

"Whatever."

"Ugh, what the hell," Flynn snapped. "This thing is hard as a rock."

"Maybe because you put it in the freezer, smartass?"

"Wow, dude, thank you for that _thoughtful_ suggestion. Your logic has helped an _awful_ lot."

Flynn and Aladdin were lucky enough to have a refrigerator in an 'apartment', if it even had the liberty to be called one. The landlord was kind enough to let them rent the place for free—for now, at least. He was an amiable man and he took a liking to "determined young men." Once they had decent jobs, they would pay him in full.

He didn't know, though, that these "determined" men used to work as part-time thieves. It was a dirty scheme, but they had no choice. Despite their statuses, both of them—Aladdin especially—believed in morality.

The apartment was bad. It reeked of insecticide and rats, the walls were a peeling blue-green, and their only source of light were candles. Their beds were creaky and the bathroom was tiny. It did, however, have a working refrigerator, an old TV, an electric cooling fan, a table and some sofa chairs.

It was terrible, but it was good enough for them. Better than the streets, anyway.

. . . . . .

 **Meg:** _Thx for cleaning up the mess this morning, Mo. I really, really appreciate it._

 **Mulan:** _it's nothing. thanks for bearing with my tipsy self. :-)_

 **Meg:** _You weren't even that bad, lol. But don't mention it X_

Meg smiled, slipping her phone back into her pocket.

She woke up in the morning with a terrible headache, and she blamed it on the combined forces of schoolwork and alcohol. Thankfully, she didn't have to clean up the mess she left the night before. Mulan also had the initiative to leave a packet of aspirin on the table, just in case Meg had a searing headache. She knew her too well, and thank God for that.

The headache didn't quite go away, however.

Meg was unfortunate enough to be one of the students who went to school on Saturdays. Esmeralda and Phoebus—ever the inseparable team—had classes, too, and she called them up to meet in their usual spot in the cafeteria.

"Hey, Meg," Esmeralda greeted the grumpy Greek girl as she took a seat beside her. Phoebus sat opposite Meg.

"Hi."

"Betcha 10 bucks she's having a hangover," Phoebus muttered.

"Don't need to bet anything, sweetcheeks. Anyone can tell."

"I'm not having a hangover," Meg said. "It's just a headache. A really bad headache."

"Due to alcohol," Phoebus finished.

"Alright, maybe alcohol was involved, but not much. And in my defense, I had to finish research for my class today. I deserve a damn pat in the back for doing my task earnestly."

"Why the hell would you drink alcohol while doing schoolwork?" Esmeralda asked in disbelief. "Red Bull would have worked just fine, or I don't know. Water?"

"Red Bull would have the same effect anyways. And besides, I find myself to work better when I'm a bit tipsy."

Phoebus shook his head. "It's all in your mind, Nutmeg."

"I swear."

Meg leaned her head on the table with a deep sigh as Phoebus stood up to get them something to eat.

"When does class start?"

"40 minutes," Meg mumbled.

"Why'd you come here early, anyway?"

"I don't know. I've nothing to do in the dorm. Mulan's gone somewhere out for a project, I think."

Esmeralda looked at her friend, shaking her head slightly.

"Want me to get you some Advil?"

"Already had one. Barely had an effect."

Meg finally propped herself up on one hand with a big sigh. Her breath felt hot against her hand. Hopefully, this wouldn't lead to a full sickness.

"I'm surprised your RA hasn't caught you sneaking in alcohol every week," Esmeralda said. "I must say, that's pretty impressive."

"Meg has her ways."

Phoebus came back seconds later, carrying a tray with hot dogs and soda.

"Thanks, Phoebs," Esme said, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek.

"Wow, you guys are _finally_ dating?"

Phoebus and Esmeralda gave her a funny look.

"Nutmeg, I don't think medicine and remnants of alcohol mix well for you," Phoebus said.

"Oh, but you guys. You guys are adorable."

Esmeralda giggled. "Meg, babe, you _might_ be a little hungover."

"Nope, not at all. Just stating the facts. You guys are like, a couple, even if it's not official. Yet."

Meg grinned to herself, as if she discovered a prediction that would change humanity.

"God, Megara. We're not dating. That kiss was purely platonic. Besides, I've done that several times already, but no one cared until now."

"You only do it to _him_."

"Would do it to Smith, but I don't want Poca to get the wrong idea."

"Ugh, you are so _stubborn_ ," Meg whined.

"And you're out of your mind, sweetie," Phoebus shook his head. "Eat up."

. . . . . .

Jasmine was lost, to say the least. She was certain that _this_ was the exact same place she had been two minutes ago—the place she specifically wanted to get out of.

The place smelled like rubber and rotten fruit. _Why did I ever think that this was a great idea?_

She wished for the company of Esmeralda—who was the reason she was here in the first place—or at least Ariel's.

It had been a stupid bet over Facebook chat last night. Esmeralda declared in their group chat that Jasmine would not last ten minutes in an "extreme" public place. Jasmine was determined to prove them wrong.

She lasted ten minutes, all right, but she could not last any longer. To think that she had been _so_ goddamn excited for this!

With a sigh, Jasmine pulled out her iPhone and sent Esmeralda a text.

 **Jasmine:** _Thanks a lot for ruining me_

 **Esmeralda:** _what are u talking about?_

 **Jasmine:** _I'm at the market outside town._

 **Esmeralda:** _huh?_

 **Esmeralda:** _i didn't know u were seriously going there! we were joking around, ffs._

 **Jasmine:** _You guys were bruising my ego :'(_

 **Esmeralda:** _omg, PRINCESS. alright. we'll pick u up after class._

Jasmine smirked, putting her phone back in her Prada messenger bag.

Unlike most of her friends, Jasmine didn't stay at a dorm room. Her father was a rich man, and he made sure that Jasmine received "nothing but the best." So he bought a small but elegant bungalow—complete with a swimming pool and a garage—a walk away from campus. _And_ he had gotten a maid for them, for reasons she couldn't even fathom. (She had left weeks ago.) Jasmine was grateful for that and she loved her father dearly, but she wasn't completely happy with the fact that he is treating her as if she were still 14.

But Sultan, as everyone dubs him, was away for a trip somewhere in the Middle East. Jasmine was lucky enough to spend time away from the house and not worry about her father.

She took the bus earlier this morning—for what? Trying to prove that she could stay in a flea market?—and for a first timer, she was able to commute without trouble.

 _This_ place, however, was full of trouble.

Jasmine didn't like the smell, the sight, and the feeling… or the way those four big men were looking at her from one of the stalls.

. . . . . .

 **A/N: More characters to be introduced soon. I wanted to put more people in this chapter, but I don't want this to be messy and rushed. It's quite difficult, I realize now, to write such a big crossover. It can get too much since there are a TON of Disney characters, so I'm trying to introduce each of them slowly.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to those who have read, faved and followed this story! *more cookies***

 **Bununnu: Thank you so much for understanding! I watched the Peter Pan sequel recently, and I have to admit it was quite disappointing (in my opinion, anyway). But that last scene where he meets Wendy again** **…** **holy crap. I was bawling so HARD.** _ **That! Goddamn! Scene!**_ **It was such a nostalgic moment. But, again, if you have suggestions, just shoot a review. Thanks for giving my story a chance!**

 **Anyway, without further ado, here's a long Aladdin-centric chapter. But don't worry folks, everyone will get their moment. Enjoy!**

. . . . . .

Aladdin wandered around the marketplace tirelessly, just strolling about with no purpose. That had somehow become his weekend routine ever since he was in high school. Occasionally, he would buy this or that—he could afford them, at the very least—but the place simply spoke to him.

When he was a child he would walk around in flea markets with his father. He lived in his hometown then, a small city called Agrabah, and his life wasn't much different from now. If anything, it was even worse. His mother had died when he was only an infant, so he was left with his father. His father, Cassim, is a hardworking man who would do anything to give him a comfortable life. Sadly, the world was unfair and they were often homeless.

When Aladdin turned six, Cassim had become desperate, so he talked to his brother-in-law, Robin ("Genie" as he was often called), a wealthy man. Genie then let Aladdin work as a helper in his home. It wasn't noble, but at least he ate five meals a day and he slept in a cozy room. Genie eventually took a liking to the boy and he decided to send him off to America when he was eight.

Genie, who was easily one of Aladdin's closest friends, had paid for his education until he was in high school. He tried to get Aladdin into college but Aladdin refused. He didn't want to take advantage of Genie's generosity. Besides, his uncle had done enough for him already.

Aladdin is in constant contact with Genie and he often lied about his whereabouts. He'd told Genie that he lived in a middle-class apartment and that he had a job in the public library as an assistant. The truth was that Aladdin was renting a rotten place with his best friend Flynn Rider, and he worked part-time in a diner near the university.

Unfortunately, Aladdin barely talked to his father. Aladdin was lucky enough to be in possession of a cell phone—courtesy of Genie again—but his father wasn't. Once or twice every few months he would receive a call from Cassim, who would be using a local phone to reach him.

Aladdin, of course, still wished for a better life despite everything. He promised himself that he would give his father a comfortable home someday.

Shrugging off his sudden memories, Aladdin walked further in the market, just loitering around. And _then_ someone caught his eye.

The college girl.

 _What is she doing here?_ Aladdin thought. Frankly, she didn't seem to be the kind of person who would roam a flea market. No, the woman was a million-dollar kind of woman who would spend her time on five-star hotels and luxurious spas.

She seemed troubled. Aladdin observed how she walked fast, head bent down but searching, desperately looking for an open space.

Then he noticed four bulky guys behind her, snickering and whistling, following her closely.

Aladdin knew those guys. He saw them always, but they never saw him. When he was fourteen or fifteen, he had tried stealing some garlic bread from their basket. What did the men do?

Beat him up, and almost killed him. That's what they did to people who tried to snatch a small slice of garlic bread.

These weren't guys to be messed with.

 _How are all these people oblivious to what could lead to a rape case?_ The men were subtly taunting the college girl, but she was obviously nervous. Wasting no time, Aladdin rushed over to the her side.

"Hey, sis, what are you doing here? I thought Mom didn't want you getting out of the house today," he said, a little too loudly for them.

The girl looked at him funnily. For a small moment Aladdin was embarrassed, but he knew he was doing this for her anyway. "Just play along," he whispered.

"Why?"

"I don't mean any harm. Trust me."

For a moment the girl seemed to wonder if he was part of the big gang following her, but Aladdin slightly turned his head towards their back. Then, she nodded in understanding and gave him a small, grateful smile. Aladdin felt his heart skip.

"Say, this place really is full," Aladdin said, loudly again, earning some looks from a few people but only for a short while. "Maybe we should go meet Dad. You know, _Dad_ , the officer?"

The girl giggled.

"Oh, definitely!" she said. "He promised us we would use the guns and practice our shooting, didn't he?"

"Yeah! In no time, sis, we'd be able to shoot whoever tries to mess with us!"

"And we'd totally beat them up, too!"

"Especially those who are already on the run!" _I've been one of them_ , he thought gruffly, but now is not the time to contemplate on his past.

Aladdin warily looked behind them. The men were scampering now, heading towards the right, to a more crowded area.

Not that they'd scared them off, but they already had troubles with the law and perhaps they didn't risk any more, even if Aladdin and the girl's acting was terrible.

"They're gone," he whispered, stepping away from her a little.

She sighed in relief. "Thank God. I can't believe that just happened! So many ignorant people…"

Aladdin nodded. "You'd be surprised."

"Can you… do you know the way to Diamond Avenue? I'm kind of lost."

"Sure, follow me."

Aladdin walked straight ahead with the girl following him close behind. _Wait till Rider hears this_ , he thought excitedly as he felt her arm brush through his elbow.

A few minutes later, they were out in the open grounds. They stood in the grass, looking at the empty avenue. For a few moments they stood there awkwardly and Aladdin almost felt the urge to go back inside the market, but he didn't.

"I want to thank you for doing that," the girl said shyly, breaking the ice.

"Uh. Forget it," he said with a small smile. He looked down at his purple hoodie and then at her creamy-brown cashmere cardigan.

 _Who am I fooling? I don't stand a chance._

But he could try.

"So, uh, this is your first time in the marketplace, huh?"

"Is it that obvious?" she chuckled.

"Well, you do kind of stand out."

The girl looked down with a little smile, blushing slightly.

"I—I mean, uh, you don't seem to know how dangerous this place can be."

Another short awkward moment passed.

"I'm Jasmine," she said suddenly, holding out her hand. _A handshake?_ She thought to herself. _Really?_

"Oh… Aladdin," Aladdin held out his hand to shake hers.

"I'm supposed to meet my friends at the McDonalds down the street. It's just here, isn't it?"

"It's a short walk from this avenue. Just take a left when you go to the corner, then another, and when you see a Krispy Kreme you just—"

"Wait, wait. Left, left, Krispy Kreme, then…?"

Aladdin smiled sheepishly at her.

"Um, do you want me to walk you?"

"Oh God, no," she said. "I've taken up too much of your time and effort, and uh…"

"It's all right," he said. "Follow me."

He lightly took Jasmine's forearm for a few seconds, then he put his hand on the pocket of his hoodie. Vaguely, Jasmine wished his touch would linger there for a few more moments.

"So, do you live in this town?" she asked.

"No, I live in the small city nearby. The one with the big college."

"Me too," Jasmine said.

 _I know_ , he thought, but kept his mouth shut.

"Do you go to Walt Disney College?" he asked, though he already knew the answer again.

He'd seen Jasmine not too long ago at the big mall in the city, and she was with a girl with red hair. He'd seen her dressed down, in a black and red shirt with the words WALT DISNEY COLLEGE imprinted across the chest. He'd followed her, mesmerized by how simple yet elegant she looked. They seemed to have the same ethnicity, too, or a close one at least. She certainly wasn't Caucasian. She looked Middle Eastern, just like him.

He wanted to approach her then and ask her name, but he didn't. Unbeknownst to the girls, he followed them in the most subtle way until they headed out to the parking lot. Flynn called him a stalker, but Aladdin insisted that it wasn't stalking, though it probably was.

"Yeah, I do. You?"

He shook his head. "I don't go to college."

"Oh. I also considered not going, but my dad wanted me to. I guess I kind of changed my mind later on."

"Yeah, it's not for everyone." _Not for someone like me, anyway._ "What major are you taking?"

"None yet. I'm still a sophomore."

"What are your plans, then?"

Jasmine laughed nervously. "I honestly have no idea. But time's running fast and I've got to find what I want soon."

"Just… don't rush in, I guess," Aladdin said thoughtfully. "Don't choose something just because you need to. Make sure what you choose is what you want, or else all those college years will be wasted. And if you end up with a job you don't want, then life would be something you'd regret, wouldn't it?"

Jasmine only looked at him and Aladdin caught himself.

"God, I'm so sorry," Aladdin blabbered, fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. "I shouldn't tell you how to live your life, or give you advice as if I know something about it. Hell, I don't even know shit about mine…"

To his surprise, she only gave him a wide, sincere smile.

"If you think you were interfering with my life, wait till you meet my acquaintances," she said. "But no, don't worry about it. I appreciate it, and every word you said was true."

They had arrived at McDonalds before they knew it.

"Well, uh, I hope to see you around, Jasmine."

"Jas. Call me Jas."

"Jas," he said with an absentminded smile. He liked it.

"Thanks again for your time, and the marketplace incident. See you around, then. Bye!"

"Bye."

With another wave, Jasmine headed inside the place. She walked slowly, her eyes scanning for her friends. _Would it be too much if I asked for his number?_

Jasmine decided, in that instant moment, that it wasn't. But she felt a strange pang in her heart when she headed out the glass doors.

The streets were empty. Aladdin had already gone.

. . . . . .

Nakoma and Pocahontas were on the floor, eating jalapeño-flavored Cheetos and blasting a 90's-themed playlist from Spotify on Pocahontas' Bluetooth Beats mini speaker.

Nakoma's iPad lay in front of them and she skimmed it with her ring finger, as her index and middle were dirty with jalapeño cheese powder.

"Oh, he is _so_ handsome," Nakoma breathed out as he stares at the Instagram photo.

"I especially love his smile," Pocahontas said mischievously.

The picture was a man named Kocoum, the son of Pocahontas' father's friend. He was also a junior like Pocahontas and Nakoma. Several times, Pocahontas had gone out with him, but he was simply too stoic for his liking (even if he was, undeniably, good-looking with toned arms and six-pack). He was also kind, if anything.

Besides, he was for Nakoma. Her friend has been crushing on him since high school.

"I can't believe you still chose Smith over him. Yeah, Smith's hot, but _goddamn_ , Poca. Look at those shoulders."

"Well, look at that wonderful smile on his face," Pocahontas retorted.

"It's the way he is," Nakoma said defensively.

"And it's _not_ the way I like my guys."

"Please. You only liked one guy since, I don't know, sixth grade? And then there's Smith. How many 'guys' are you referring to?"

"John."

Nakoma rolled her eyes and Pocahontas giggled.

"You've been reading way too many romance novels."

"How could you say that? You know I'm not into those things."

"But you're into John."

"Exactly," Pocahontas winked.

Nakoma and John were friends, but it was the kind of friendship that there wasn't _any_ affection involved, even if it was purely platonic. No, Nakoma wouldn't touch John's biceps in a million years, no matter how gorgeous they were, and John would never ruffle her hair. They couldn't _stand_ each other, but they made inside jokes about everything. It was almost as if they would make a cute couple, except they wouldn't.

John's relationship to Pocahontas, however, was full of intimacy _and_ inside jokes. They met when Pocahontas was a sophomore, and John was supposed to be in college, but he didn't go. It was at a protest about converting the nearby woods in her old hometown into a theme park. Pocahontas, who committed herself to Mother Nature, was at the messy event. John was the son of one of the men who tried to cut down the trees. Ironically, their differences had attracted them to one another. John was not as committed as Pocahontas, but he now shared her beliefs.

John was a senior, one year ahead of Pocahontas, but he was five years older than her. She found that their ages suited each other, despite what everyone said. And frankly, she didn't care about what everyone said. She was with John, and she was happy.

" _OH GOD!"_ Nakoma shouted, making Pocahontas flinch.

"What?" she asked in surprise. "What happened?"

"I accidentally liked his photo," she groaned. "It was, like, 102 weeks old!"

. . . . . .

"Rape?" Esmeralda's eyes widened in horror.

Esmeralda, Phoebus and Jasmine sat inside McDonalds, eating fries, chicken nuggets, and McFlurries, and drinking Coke. Megara was supposed to be with them, but her headache had gotten worse and she had to stay in her dorm room for the rest of the day.

"Well, hopefully not," Jasmine said, "but yeah. Four big guys, and they were following me and catcalling! Tell me, Esme, does that shit happen all the time in the flea market?"

"No, not really," Esmeralda said. "You're just not a market person, so you seem to get bad luck."

"Am too!"

Esmeralda raised her eyebrows.

"Fine. I may not have enjoyed it. But I guess… the entire experience wasn't bad."

"You _bought_ something from there, Miss Gucci-Prada?" Phoebus asked doubtfully.

"Well, no, although I wanted to," Jasmine admitted. "Anyway, I met someone."

"Met someone?" Esmeralda asked in disbelief.

Jasmine nodded.

"And you _like_ him?"

"Geez, hell no. I mean, probably, but only a crush. He's hot, and he's really sweet, but he was kind of daring, I guess."

Esmeralda and Phoebus looked at each other.

"What?" Jasmine asked, annoyed.

"Jas," Esmeralda said, "We've been setting you up with guys—of your caliber, no less—"

"My _caliber_?"

"Hot. Rich. People who haven't been to markets."

Jasmine rolled her eyes.

"The point is," Phoebus continued, "you threw all those men away and fell in love at first sight with a guy you met in the flea market?"

"It wasn't love at first sight, for starters. He's gentle and cute. I like him, but I don't know him enough."

"Yes, but you're interested," Esmeralda pointed out. "You've never been interested in guys. We're almost starting to think you're asexual."

"Oh my God, please don't."

"Obviously, Jas, we were wrong. But what made this guy different?"

Jasmine shrugged. "Nothing, really, but he protected me from the guys who were catcalling. And he was able to tell that I wasn't a market person," she said with a chuckle. "And he led me here."

 _Also gave me sound advice on what to do with my life, like everyone else, except that he actually made sense._

"Well, isn't that so _sweet_?" Phoebus piped up. He then worked on his kid-and-parent voice. "'Mommy, how did you and Daddy meet?' 'Well son, we met at the flea market when I was about to be gang-banged against my will by a couple of ugly, unethical bastards.'"

Jasmine threw a nugget at him, but he and Esmeralda only laughed.

"Did you get his number?" Esmeralda asked.

Jasmine shook her head slowly.

"Wow, Jas. Incredible move. You _finally_ get interested in a guy, and you didn't make an effort to know him."

"I tried to, but he was gone when I was about to ask."

"What was his name?"

"Aladdin."

Phoebus' eyebrows shot up. "Is he Middle Eastern like you?"

"You know him?" Jasmine asked in disbelief.

"We were high school friends. And we're Facebook friends, too."

"Hm," Jasmine said, lost in thought, swirling her McFlurry mindlessly.

. . . . . .

 **I'm trying to focus on some characters at a time, so I'm sorry if you still haven't seen your favorite. They'll be in the future chapters.**


	4. Chapter 4

**symbiotic: I'm glad you think so! I'm trying to make sure I did the characterization properly. I totally understand your concern, by the way. But the first few chapters will mostly focus on getting to know the main characters. Nevertheless, I've got some things planned out after all the introductions. Thank you for your feedback! :)**

 **Honestly, this entire fanfic is just a random drabble and the themes—friendship and romance—suggest its lightheartedness. I've a few major things planned out, but they might be too overwhelming for such a big crossover, so we'll see how that goes.**

. . . . . .

Some days Ariel was glad that she didn't live in a dorm, and most days she cursed herself for having to live with six sisters, one cousin, one overprotective uncle and an even more overprotective dad.

Today was one of those "most" days.

Ariel turned over, slammed herself facedown in the bed, and covered her head with a pillow in attempt to muffle out Aquata and Arista's argument. She loved sleeping in and the only day she could do that was on a Sunday because there was no school. Unfortunately, she shared a room with six sisters. _Six sisters._

Right now, only she and two others occupied the room, and it was horrible enough.

"Christ, guys, knock it off," she heard the door creak as the eldest of the sisters, Attina, entered and scolded the two arguing girls. Attina was almost like their mother. Perhaps it was because she had the most vivid memory of her. Sometimes, Ariel hated how overprotective she was, but she genuinely admired and respected her.

"Arista took my laptop again! Without me knowing!"

"Well, last time I checked, we're sisters. There's no such thing as territory."

"That's bullshit! Where'd you even get that idea?" Aquata snapped. "I need it. I've got things to do, unlike you."

"It's not my fault _you_ chose to go to college."

"Guys, enough!" Attina whisper-yelled. "Can't you see some of us need to rest? Aqua, control your temper. Arista, please stop taking things that aren't yours!"

"My temper is justified," Aquata said firmly. "I mean, look at her, Tina! She's even wearing my lucky seashell bra!"

"For the record, we're like, the same size."

" _Fucking stop,"_ Attina growled. Ariel suppressed a giggle. Attina was a responsible, sensible, and gentle lady. To hear her curse was like a sweet bell ringing in her ears.

Aquata and Arista's case, however, was different. To hear her curse can be a miracle, but to be the receiving end of the cursing is a different story.

"You know what, screw it, Arista. Take my laptop instead," Attina declared in exasperation. "Go watch 27 Dresses there or something. And you, Aqua, get out of the room and do _anything_ else."

"What about my bra?"

"Forget it. Lock it away next time."

Ariel got up slowly. The three sisters looked at her for a moment, then Attina glared at Aquata and Arista.

"You've done it. Congratulations."

"Nah," Ariel said sarcastically. "Thanks for the courtesy, guys."

Aquata mumbled an apology, but Ariel told her it was nothing, even though she was slightly irritated. She'd rather not hear them fight, anyway.

Ariel's hands searched frantically at her nightstand for her phone while her other hand rubbed her sleepy eyes. When she saw that there was no phone in the nightstand, she eyed Arista suspiciously.

"Ris, where's my phone?"

Arista sheepishly smiled and walked over to give Ariel her phone, which _somehow_ ended up across her bed—on Arista's bed. All of them looked at Arista with narrowed eyes.

"What? I needed to get a good quality photo of my latte—my phone's missing, remember?—and I was just going to ask Ariel to text them to me, or something. It was artsy."

. . . . . .

The place was exhilarating, to say the least. It was the kind of place Esmeralda would go to if she wanted to run away from her problems. They walked in a soil path, surrounded by grass and trees and flowering shrubs. Esmeralda felt the urge to lay in the grass and sleep.

"Why didn't you take me here sooner?" she asked Phoebus.

They strolled hand in hand around the farm, Esmeralda admiring the scenery and Phoebus leading her around. Phoebus spent a lot of his weekends here to visit his stallion. (That was no metaphor—he really owned a stallion.)

"I didn't think you'd be interested," he answered frankly.

"Why'd you think that?"

"You seem more of the… city person," he admitted. "I am, too, but there are days I just want to stay in here."

"Me too."

Esmeralda looked at the hand in hers and rubbed the back of it with her thumb. They fell into a comfortable silence.

Sometimes, she didn't understand what they were. They proclaimed they were no more than best friends—they've known each other for a long time—but Esmeralda felt she had been lying to herself, all this time.

Truth be told, Esmeralda didn't want to admit that she felt more than friendship towards Phoebus. They had been friends for around seven years already, although they weren't exactly in good terms when they first met.

Esmeralda had been far too young to witness the cruelty of the world. She was lucky enough to be going to a public high school, and she thought it would end there. Her 'part-time job' involved dancing in the subway. Her mother was always away, and she was left almost alone to fend off for herself.

One day, Esmeralda had seen a poor, disfigured young boy being made fun of by a group of high school thugs. Esmeralda had helped the young boy escape but the thugs had seen her and tried to chase her.

She was cunning. She and the young boy had narrowly escaped all the thugs—all except one.

 _Esmeralda led the boy inside an empty church. He ran from her then, not uttering a single word, and climbed up the stairs. She was about to chase him, but then she felt someone sneak up behind her._

 _Esmeralda knew it was one of those thugs._

 _She swiftly turned and stealthily snatched the dagger from the boy's hand. It had cut her slightly, but she didn't mind._

 _The 'thug' who had followed her was more slender than the others. He didn't look big and bad; in fact, he was handsome and well-built. He could almost pass for a decent, well-bred man. Almost._

" _You," she growled, pointing it to his chin._

" _Easy, easy," he said, backing away from the knife. "I—I just shaved this morning."_

" _Oh, really? You missed a spot."_

" _All right, all right," he said as he was cornered, sliding on the ground. The knife still followed his chin. "Just_ _…_ _give me a chance to apologize."_

" _For what?" she scoffed._

 _The guy—he looked a few years older than Esmeralda—was as stealthy and cunning as she is. He kicked her heel and she slipped, sending the knife dangerously flying over him, but he was able to catch it without a scathe._

" _That, for example," he smirked._

" _You sneaky son of a—"_

" _Ah, ah, ah. Watch it. We're in a church."_

 _She didn't miss a beat and took hold of a long, metal candlestick. "Are you always this charming or am I just lucky?"_

 _Phoebus was able to deflect the swings of the candlestick. "You fight almost as well as a man," he joked._

" _Funny," she replied, still trying to swing it across his torso, "I was going to say the same thing about you."_

" _That's hitting a little below the belt, isn't it?"_

" _No," she shook her head. "_ This _is."_

 _Phoebus covered his groin as Esmeralda attempted to hit it, but she hit his temple instead. He shook his head slightly to fight the sudden dizziness that hit him. "Touché."_

 _Esmeralda hit his stomach again, but he still didn't fall._

" _You've got some real combat skills there."_

" _I don't take it kindly on high school thugs."_

" _I noticed. Uh_ _…_ _permit me." He gave her a smile. "I'm Phoebus. It means, 'sun god.'"_

 _Esmeralda's eyes were still narrowed, but her lips were forming into a small, unamused smile._

" _And you are_ _…_ _?"_

" _Is this some kind of an interrogation?"_

" _I believe it's called an introduction," he said._

" _You're not taking me to your friends? Or killing me?"_

" _What?" Phoebus looked at her. "They aren't my friends, and no, of course not."_

 _Esmeralda observed him. "Not your friends?"_

" _Not really," he admitted. "They think I am, but I don't like them a bit. They're too selfish and conceited for my liking."_

" _Huh," Esmeralda said, putting the candlestick down. "So_ _if you're not going to hurt me, what do you want?"_

" _I'd settle for your name," he said, that charming smile returning to his face._

 _She couldn't believe she was giving in._

" _Esmeralda," she replied slowly._

" _Beautiful."_

 _A small smile crossed her face._

" _Much better than Phoebus, anyway," he joked, after a moment._

Nobody knew how Esmeralda and Phoebus became friends. If they found out, Meg would have laughed and poke them on the ribs, declaring that they were truly meant for each other. Now that Esmeralda thought about it, it _was_ pretty funny. Who would've thought they'd be friends, after such a flirtatious—and violent—encounter?

A part of Esmeralda knew she wanted to consider Phoebus more than a friend, but that would be jeopardizing their long-time friendship. She would much rather not lose Phoebus as a person. It was all right, somehow, that she couldn't have him, as long as she still had his company.

But she hadn't admitted all of this. Not to her friends, not to Phoebus, not even fully to herself.

As for the disfigured young boy, Esmeralda did not know his name; nor had she seen him since. But of course she wished she had made friends with him. Perhaps one day…

"Here we are," Phoebus said as they reached a big barn. They were greeted by a foul smell upon entering.

"Sorry. I know it stinks."

"I've had worse, Phoebs." She looked around with a smirk. "So, is this where the extremely wealthy people spend their time?"

"First of all, not all wealthy people enjoy this kind of tranquility. Their idea of 'tranquil' is a trip to France or Italy. Take Jasmine, for example."

Esmeralda chuckled.

"And secondly, I'm not extremely wealthy."

"Sure you aren't."

"Really, Esme. My _parents_ are wealthy. They're the ones who pay for my membership here. And my tuition."

"The only difference between you and other extremely wealthy people is the fact that you often fend for yourself. Had you been like the others, leeching to their parents even after 18, you would've had the world at your feet."

He put his arm around her as they walked slowly. "I don't need money to have people at my feet. I mean, look at my face. _That_ alone would give them enough reason to grovel."

Esmeralda jokingly smacked his head.

Phoebus stopped in his tracks then, turning to his right, towards a pure white stallion.

"This is Achilles."

"Damn," Esmeralda said. She didn't care much for horses, but this one looked magnificent (and obscenely expensive). It was white with a gray mane and tail. She touched its head slowly and patted it.

"I've had him since I was 12," Phoebus explained, opening the small door to let his horse out and leading it outside. Esmeralda followed beside him.

"Check this out," Phoebus said once they were at an open space. He was grinning cheekily, as if he was about to perform a trick. Esmeralda expected him to show off his horseback riding skills, but he didn't even jump on the horse.

"Achilles, sit," he commanded, and the horse obeyed. Esmeralda laughed, her eyes twinkling in amusement.

"You really have a way with horses."

"And women."

"Whatever you say, Captain."

"Wanna ride his back?"

"No way. You're totally responsible for me if I get injured."

"You don't trust me?" he asked, a prominent sincerity in his voice.

"Of course I do, Phoebs," she answered genuinely. "But, I don't know. I have a fear of falling. Literally falling."

"That's too late, isn't it, considering you've already fallen for me."

She felt the back of her neck go hot, but she didn't falter from him. "Ah, yes. Who _wouldn't_ fall for such a charming young man such as yourself? And your name, oh, your goddamn name. You are a sun god, and you've captured my heart."

Phoebus laughed, then turned serious again. "No, really. I'll teach you to ride."

Esmeralda was silent a moment.

"Fine."

The pair walked over to a station to get Achilles' saddle. Phoebus helped Esmeralda mount. She slipped her feet inside the stirrups as Achilles walked slowly in the grass.

"Shit," she muttered, shaking, as she almost fell to the ground. Phoebus held her hips firmly to support her. She felt herself relax a bit.

In no time, Esmeralda was riding Achilles with barely any fear. Phoebus had finally let go of her waist, but he followed beside Achilles.

"I hope he doesn't run," Esmeralda remarked, her nervousness slowly fading.

Just then, a flurry motion of a running horse filled the distance. Esmeralda and Phoebus looked at it in surprise, and finally the woman on top of it.

" _Mulan?"_ Phoebus said in disbelief.

. . . . . .

"Pictures or it never happened," Flynn haughtily declared.

"Bro, I just met her. And besides, what was I supposed to do? 'Hey, wait a minute. Let's take a selfie!'"

"Of course not. _You_ make _them_ take selfies with you. Wow, you're absolutely charmless."

"You're absolutely full of shit."

"Touché, but I've got a smolder that kills. What have you got? Fleas?"

"Dick."

Flynn shrugged with a lopsided smirk on his face.

"Did you ask for her number?"

Aladdin shook his head slowly.

"God! Can you get even more clueless?"

"I just don't want her to think I'm creepy!" Aladdin said, throwing his hands in exasperation. "I mean, I just helped her away from that gang to ask for her number?"

"Well, how else will you contact her?"

"Oh, we'll meet again. I guarantee it," Aladdin said with a little smile, his eyes looking at somewhere uncertain.

" _Mon Dieu_. You've become some kind of a noble prince now. Maybe we should change your name to Ali and declare that you rule a kingdom called Ababwa."

"You really _are_ full of shit."

"Ah!" Flynn snapped, looking at his empty plate. The apple he had put had disappeared. "Aladdin, would you keep your _goddamned_ monkey in a cage?!"

"Sorry. He doesn't like cages, or self-proclaiming charming guys."

Aladdin's monkey, Abu, chomped on the apple. Aladdin grinned and high-fived him.

 _Ping!_

Aladdin picked up his phone—a hand-me-down from Genie—under his pillow. A Facebook friend request filled his screen. He gasped in excitement. The picture. The name.

"SCORE!" he whooped.

Flynn shot him a questioning look from the sink as he washed his apple. Aladdin galloped towards him, frantically waving his iPhone in his face.

"I don't get it?"

He waved it in his face again and Flynn held his wrist to keep the phone from being wiggled.

"Damn, she's hot," Flynn said, raising his eyebrows in surprise. Jasmine wore a blue crop top in her profile picture and she posed beside a tiger.

Aladdin grinned at him.

"See? So much _you_ know," he cockily declared, going back to his bed. How Jasmine found him on Facebook was a beyond him, but he couldn't care less. He'd finally be able to talk to her again.

Not yet, but he will.

"I get why you like her a lot," Flynn said, biting his apple and sitting on his bed.

"Yeah," Aladdin said. "She's fun, and smart, and—"

"Pretty?" Flynn finished.

"Beautiful!"

Flynn shrugged. "Yeah. At least she's attractive."

"Oh, she's more than that, Rider. Ever heard of personality?"

"Yes, well. That, too."

Aladdin shook his head. "This is why you've never had a serious relationship."

"True, but they've all buttered my corn."

Aladdin looked at him in disbelief.

"Buttered your _corn_?"

"You know," Flynn flashed his perfect white teeth and wiggled his left eyebrow up and down, causing his friend to groan in disgust.


End file.
